Tuesday night, four of the five girls and I were on our way to Sortino's Pizza (Emily was at a friend's house) for dinner. On our way down the apartment stairs, Veronica asked me to carry her. Big mistake.
About three or four steps from the bottom of the second landing, I noticed Julia on my right and momentarily lost my concentration. Unfortunately, I couldn't see where I was on the stairs. In less than a second, I was tumbling forward.
The next thing I remember is rolling over on my back as the girls hovered over me. Lauren kept asking me if I wanted her to "call Dee Dee (Aunt Bridget)" while Veronica was rubbing my head. Olivia looked a bit shell-shocked and Julia just laughed. I kept saying, "just let me rest, girls, let me rest." That's because I knew I couldn't immediately get up. My feet felt like stumps.
I managed to hobble to dinner and put my feet up for the rest of the night. Sleeping was an exercise in futility, though. The next morning, with my right ankle still the size of a small tennis ball, Bridget drove me to the local "Doc in a Box" where I learned I had a high ankle sprain.
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